


Just Hanging Around

by loves_books



Category: The A-Team (2010), The A-Team - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 12:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11036454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loves_books/pseuds/loves_books
Summary: "So, I had the greatest opening, I think, to the sequel. It was the Citadel in the middle of the desert and you see Hannibal on what looks like he’s on a dog sled, and you think he’s in the arctic and as you pull back you realize he’s taking these dogs over the dunes. A chopper flies overhead with a blackjack table cabled to the bottom of it, and he goes and plays this sheikh—I had actually written the scene, it’s a 15-page scene for the sequel—and he goes and plays this sheikh for Face’s freedom, and there’s a great moment where B.A. busts into this kind of prison and you see Face is on this torture wheel upside down. B.A.’s first line to him is, ‘You feel like whippin’ some ass?’ and Face says, ‘You know it’s funny, I do.’ (laughs).”-  Joe Carnahan





	Just Hanging Around

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt from Indigo_Angels, who asked for someone to write the opening sequence as described by the director Joe Carnahan. I haven't quite managed that, as I really can't write action sequences, but here is a little something that hopefully partly fits the request.

“You feel like whippin’ some ass?” BA asked his upside-down teammate as he moved quickly but quietly across the room, relieved to have found Face at last after far too long spent searching through the maze of cells.

“You know, it’s funny, I do!” But Face’s immediate reply and the accompanying laugh seemed more automatic than truly heartfelt, and while BA could tell that Face wanted to mean every word he said, the lieutenant’s voice was actually hoarse and filled with barely-concealed pain.

Face was a mess of bruised and swollen skin, his wrists and ankles clearly rubbed raw by the heavy metal cuffs holding him pinned upside down to the rusty metal wheel. The contraption looked like something from a mediaeval torturer’s toolkit rather than something anyone would expect to find in a citadel in the middle of a desert, but BA had learned the hard way to expect the unexpected in their line of work.

One closer look at those cuffs and BA’s heart sank further. He’d been hoping for a quick getaway, but it looked like it might not be such an easy job to get Face down after all. A standard lock pick would be about as much use as a toothpick. “Damn, man – did they weld these into place?” he joked, thankful when Face barked another hoarse laugh.

“Something like that,” Face breathed, before asking, predictably, “Where are the others?”

“Up top.” BA had already slipped off his pack and was rummaging quickly for the stronger tools he’d need to get the cuffs off. “Boss is playing the sheikh for your life even as we speak.”

“Like, literally playing or – ?”

“Blackjack, brother. They got a full size table an’ everything.”

Ah, there was the lock pick he needed, along with a chisel, right at the bottom of the pack, and BA set to work on the cuffs with a vengeance, starting by Face’s bloody and torn wrists. There was no obvious way to rotate the table or lay it flat, and no time to waste trying – Hannibal’s distraction would only work for so long, and Murdock would be waiting impatiently.

BA gritted his teeth as Face let a pain-filled gasp slip from his lips, hastily stifled. “They’ve got a full size blackjack table out here in the middle of nowhere?” Face ground out, and BA didn’t dare pause in his work, though he did smile.

“They have now. Crazy fool flew it all the way out here, hanging under the chopper, as a special gift.” There, that was one hand free, falling limply to rest on the floor beneath Face’s head despite BA’s attempts to ease it down. There was a worrying amount of much blood on Face’s tanned skin; too much blood, really, though there would be time enough for first aid once they were out and away. Hannibal would want to take care of Face’s wounds himself, naturally.

“Hmm, that sounds pretty crazy. Sounds pretty normal for us, though. Just another day for you and me in paradise.” Face’s words were starting to sound a little slurred now, and he paused before stating, quite randomly, “I think I might be a bit concussed.”

BA didn’t have any doubt about that fact; there was a nasty egg-sized lump visible just above Face’s left eye, though they’d all had worse. “Probably. I’ll have you out of here soon, man.”

“Me? Nah, I’m good. Just hanging around, right.” A pause, then another laugh. “Just hanging around,” Face repeated softly, giggling to himself and clearly finding himself amusing even if no one else did. But when BA finally got the second cuff unlocked, peeling away skin along with the metal this time as it opened, Face groaned in pain instead, hissing, “Shit, that stings.”

“Sorry, Faceman.”

This was taking too long. Face’s eyes were starting to visibly flutter and BA was beginning to worry that he’d have to haul the man out the hard way once he finally got the cuffs off, slung over his shoulder or at least dragged along. Just as he was about to voice some sort of motivation, his stubborn teammate somehow managed to get his hands flat on the floor and did an almost-handstand, easing the weight from his equally bloody and torn ankles as BA set to work on the cuffs there.

“So you all flew in on the chopper then, right?” Concussed or not, Face sounded confused, and perhaps rightly so – he knew that BA didn’t fly, not now, not ever.

BA grinned as he continued to work, wriggling the pick as deep as it could go and chiselling away around the edges of the lock, taking care not to slip and hurt Face more. “Nah, man, don’t be stupid. The boss rode in on a dog sled. Eighteen huskies, can you imagine? Quite a sight.”

Perhaps it was a mark of how much they had all gotten used to Hannibal’s crazy ideas that Face just grunted in response. “Huh. So, were you hanging off the back?”

“I don’t do dogs. I skied alongside, obviously.” It was possibly the craziest chain of events ever, even by the ridiculous standards of the A-Team, but there was no laugh from Face as BA expected. He paused in his delicate work, wasting precious seconds checking that Face was still conscious, and felt relieved when he saw bright blue eyes blinking up at him. “Hang in there, brother.”

It was a bad pun, but it won him a smile from torn lips before Face breathed, “This wasn’t like Mexico.”

The comment seemed to come completely out of nowhere, and it took BA a moment to piece together his teammate’s train of thought. The events that had brought them all together as a team had been years ago, a decade nearly – BA hadn’t thought about Mexico for a very long time, and he certainly didn’t realise it still played on Face’s mind. There were some superficial similarities, perhaps, with Face captured and Hannibal having to ride to the rescue, but the parallels ended there as far as BA could tell. For one thing, he hadn’t been shot in the arm. Yet.

He went back to work on the cuffs with renewed focus as a distant explosion sounded somewhere high above them. Murdock’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “I know, man,” he soothed Face as best he could, working as fast as possible. “We all know. This wasn’t you going out on your own. Not your fault.”

Not Face’s fault at all, no; this was Hannibal’s mistake, and BA knew how much their colonel was beating himself up for it. Hannibal had gone rushing headfirst into a bad deal, forgetting everything he’d ever taught his boys about being three steps ahead. It was a rare mistake from the man who had kept them all safe during this crazy year on the run, and they would be having some harsh conversations once they were all safe.

“He really rode a dog sled over the dunes?” As fickle as ever, Face’s voice was suddenly full of wonder and respect for Hannibal, and BA nodded, though he wasn’t sure his friend could see.

“He’d tear the whole damn world apart for you, Face, you know he would.” Hannibal would move heaven and earth for any one of the team, of course, but for Face he would do far worse. BA could never be and never had been jealous, not after having worked alongside the two men for so long, and seeing how deeply they loved each other. “He knows this was his mistake.”

Finally, BA reached the point where both cuffs would come off together with one more twist of his pick, but he paused, wondering if there was any way he could do this without Face falling unceremoniously to the filthy floor.

Face seemed to know what he was thinking, somehow, and managed another laugh, taking more of his weight onto his hands and bracing his battered body as best he could. “Go on, do it,” he urged BA with a wicked smirk. “You can’t tell me you haven’t ever wished you could drop me on my head. Now’s your chance.”

BA shrugged, neither denying nor confirming his friend’s statement, then twisted the pick one last time to send Face tumbling down helplessly to the ground with a thud and a groan. But before he could even bend over to offer a hand, Face was already scrambling shakily to his feet, clearly as dizzy as hell after hanging upside down for goodness knew how long. 

“So, you ready to get the hell out of here and quit hanging around?” BA asked with a grin, rummaging once more in the depths of his pack and keeping one eye on Face the whole time. He held out one of his guns to the man as another explosion sounded above them, closer now, and slung his pack over his shoulder.

And a slightly wobbly Face seized the gun with a bloody grin. “Oh, yeah. It’s ass-whipping time.”


End file.
